Chapter 46 Autumn
AUTUMN
“Dom!” I screamed.
I saw his fingers slip from the branch.
“Dom!”
My lungs, my heart, and my soul were gutted clean as his body fell into the current.
No!
Not like this. Not after everything.
I swung my legs and called on every muscle memory I had left.
My body moved on instinct, my gymnast-bred reflexes kicking in.
I bent backward, hooked both legs over the thickest part of the branch, and dropped upside down, hanging like I was back on the bars.
Only this time, I wasn’t trying to win medals. I was trying to save the man I loved.
My arms reached, stretching through space and spray.
I caught him. My hands gripped his wet and battered wrist and held on.
The branch trembled under me. This current wasn’t the same one I’d swum in before.
“Dom!” My arms trembled, burning from the weight of him. It was impossible for me to bring him to safety. All I could do was give him a chance.
I gritted my teeth and adjusted my grip as he slipped an inch. “Don’t you fucking dare let go.”
He groaned, barely hanging on. My hands screamed, but I didn’t loosen.
“I won’t say I love you,” I cried out. “Not here. Not like this.”
He started to slip again, but I clenched harder and hauled with everything I had.
His eyes met mine, barely open. His lashes were soaked, and blood crusted along his temple. But he was still in there. Still Dom.
“Kick sideways!” I shouted. “Not back. Sideways! Kick the rock! Left, Dom, your left. Kick it hard!”
He got it, a boulder submerged in the surge. He twisted and forced his legs through the chaos. He kicked, missed, and kicked again.
This time, his foot caught on the stone.
Momentum shifted.
With every ounce of strength left in me, I pulled him higher. He climbed and found the base of the branch with one hand, then the other. His body trembled hard.
I crawled backward, releasing the pressure on the branch. Then, I found dirt. Firm, blessed dirt.
Dom grunted and climbed after me. And then, we were on solid ground.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I just grabbed him and held on.
He slumped against me, both of us soaked to the bone, our lungs heaving, arms clamped tight.
“I thought you were gone,” I whispered.
“I was,” he rasped, still fighting for breath. “Until I saw this gymnastical octopus otter.”
A broken laugh tore out of me, half-cry, half-cough. “That’s not a real thing.”
“It is now,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against mine.
I brushed his dripping hair back. Our kiss tasted of blood and river water, but we didn’t stop, not until our lips started trembling too hard to keep going.
He huffed. “God, what I would give for a dry pair of underwear.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
He pulled me up. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of these wet clothes.”
We stripped to our underwear and wrung out the rest. The sun was still going strong, but this wasn’t some California beach. We were shivering.
Dom spotted a flat rock not far from the bank and tugged me toward it.
“Lie here,” he said, motioning to the sun-warmed slab. He stayed upright, his arms around me, scanning the woods like he expected trouble to crawl out of it.
“You’re freezing too,” I said. “You need warmth.”
“I’m fine, Otter. Just let the sun do its thing. We don’t know how long we’ll be stuck out here.”
Then came footsteps, fast and heavy. Coming through the forest.
Had the river swept us to safety or straight into something worse?
Dom sprang up, pulled me behind the rock, and yanked our clothes from the grass. He shielded me tightly.
“Get ready to run,” he warned.
Please, God, not back in the water.
“Dom! Autumn!”
My breath caught. “Is that…?”
Dom lifted his head just enough to see over the slab.
I braced, expecting Stiff-Neck and Pickle to charge out of the trees.
“It’s Boone,” he said, his voice cracking with relief. He straightened, and so did I.
Old Hound Boone barreled through the trees like a man half his age, his men flanking him.
“Over here!” Dom waved.
“How did they—?” I asked.
“I shared my location with him,” Dom said. “It must’ve cut out way before I made it to the lodge, but hey, they didn’t have to work too hard to figure it out.”
He helped me up, still keeping me behind him and shielding me from view.
“Guys! You all right?” Boone called out, peeling off his jacket and tossing it to Dom with a nod that it was for me.
Dom draped it over my shoulders.
Buffaloberry’s own Deputy Granger arrived a beat later and handed his to Dom.
“I was just about to write your eulogy, Powell. Hope you don’t mind, I made you taller.”
Dom groaned. “Taller’s fine. Just don’t say I was nice.”
More deputies followed, one of them handing each of us a space blanket.
“Paramedics are on their way,” Boone said. “We’re close to the road. You’ll be okay.”
Boone moved to brief his men, sending them to sweep the area. Granger stayed nearby with a radio pressed to his ear, relaying directions.
Dom and I sat back on the flat rock, wrapped around each other. I glanced at my soaked clothes beside me before reaching for the zipped pocket on my pants.
It was still there.
I pulled it out, turned to him, and held out my hand. “I believe this belongs to you,” I said, dropping his silver coin into his palm.
Dom stared at it. “I thought it was gone for good. Where did you find it?”
“Spears used it to lure me in. He was betting it meant something. He smeared tomato sauce all over it, took a photo of it, and said they had you.”
His jaw clenched. “Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, well…” I folded my arms, my chin high. “I took it back.”
That got me the look I lived for—one part pride, one part disbelief, all Dom. He turned the coin over in his hand like it was suddenly worth more than silver.
“You really are my Otter.”
“Damn right I am.”
“By the way, how the hell did you know about the scour pool?” he asked.
“Oh, is that what you call it?”
Dom raised a brow, waiting.
“I just knew it as the deep bend.” I pressed a hand to his cheek. “All part of the recon, baby.”
His face twisted. “What recon?”
“I tried to escape before.”
“Shit, Otter.”
I leaned my forehead against his. “You were ready to die for me,” I whispered. “You pushed me up to that branch without a second thought.”
Dom didn’t answer. He just pressed his face into my neck and held on. His hands stayed locked around my waist, firm but trembling, and it told me everything he wasn’t saying.
“I love you, Dominic Powell.”
He kissed the hollow of my collarbone, then found my lips. “Yeah, Otter. I love you too.”
After surviving a hostage situation, river rapids, and clinging to him as if I’d sprouted suction cups, just to keep us both alive, I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to be found in his arms.
The numbness was fading now, and I could feel the bruises on both our mouths and the sting of split skin.
Slaps and fists had tried to tear us down, but we were still here. Still standing. Still choosing each other.
So what if we looked like two teenagers in love?
Let the uniforms stare.